I ate my placenta after the second baby
damn right that I did
after all I worked so hard
to birth the thing, the organ is what I mean
because my girl she slipped out so quick
that the nurses told me I’d tear, said
don’t rocket that baby out
as if I could keep her bottled in
well guess who
did not think much of the wait
*
what it looks like is a cut
of raw beef
the placenta, I mean
& the nurses will try to hide it
weird because they were almost hungry
to shove her beneath my jaw
the baby, who also smelled steely
but both are uncanny enough to admire
what never existed before suddenly
made real
*
keep it on ice—
the organ
(keep it warm—
the child)
do what you must to the meat
grind down what was you & yours
do what you need to become Mother
surrender your once body to fill up hers
reclaim the bitters of what is left over
while she siphons off the sweet
***
Rachael Inciarte (she/they) lives in California with their family. A Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee, their work appears in Poetry Northwest, Spillway, Miracle Monocle, and others. Their chapbook, What Kind of Seed Made You was published in 2021.
***
image: “Red:” Andrea Damic lives in Sydney, Australia. She has been published in 50-Word Stories and Friday Flash Fiction. You can find her on Twitter @DamicAndrea. One day she hopes to finish and publish her novel. In spare time she takes photos and creates Art.
Rejection Letters 